


Neon Dreams

by despondent_mesa



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alcohol, Band Fic, Character Study, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, F/M, Friends With Benefits, LGBTQ Characters, Long-Distance Relationship, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character-centric, POV Third Person, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Tour life, based on catfish and the bottlemens discography, long chapters, mostly - Freeform, tagging this is kinda hard, the story follows oc's band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/despondent_mesa/pseuds/despondent_mesa
Summary: The Anomaly are about to be the new hot topic in music, and Jess is about to embark on the most thrilling and exhausting experience of her life. Maybe it isn't what she pictured for herself at her age, and maybe fame isn't exactly what she thought it'd be. However, between past failures, a fleeting present, and a dissolving future, she finally allows herself to indulge in the one thing she shouldn't.She wishes for bigger things.Third POV // Based on Catfish & The Bottlemen's Discography





	Neon Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE: this story is not going to be officially worked on until I finish my other project. That could take a while. 
> 
> This first chapter I just wanted to get out there. There's no cliffhanger or anything, so please enjoy, comment (i sure love em), and subscribe if you wanna know when this bad boy gets updated.
> 
> welcome to my plotted porn

 

Sweat drips down her temple, a sensation she’s happily used to. A familiar vibration in her ribs and gravelly tone in her voice; she revels in it. Something in her heavy head reset at every concert. Something new and sweet even if the songs she played repeated the same riffs on her guitar every gig. Not like anybody besides her and her mates knew those riffs, anyway.

It’s silly, almost; how just standing in the spotlight makes your flesh melt. Her mind is always fogged up with nerves before every show. People are starting to recognize her. Breathing the same air as them makes her choke.

It’s lovely, nonetheless. The bar is packed with people that seem to know the words to her songs, something she isn’t all that used to. Neither are any of her band mates. They play just the same, if not with more vigor, trying to encourage the audience to scream along.

Regular bar-goers are off put. Gerald’s is one of the only bars open past seven in this crummy town, and it’s a popular spot for regular alcoholics. They never mind the live music; not in the least. This, however, is something entirely different. A smaller gig for their bigger-than-small band meant real fans would show up, as opposed to the countless bands they opened for where nobody knew their names.

She wishes for bigger things.

The song ends, the audience cheering unabashedly. She can’t hide the smile on her face as she hands her rosebud guitar to her techie, having it be replaced with a classic acoustic.

The audience doesn’t care to calm their cheers as they watch her swing the strap around her neck. The singer lives for this number: it’s always quiet enough where she could hear the audience singing every word for her. It’s almost surreal. Exactly what she dreamed of.

“ _ We love you, Alice _ !” A group of feminine voices scream from the crowd. The singer looks to her friend, laughing as she chugs down her water. She leans over her cymbals to her mic, winking at the group of girls.

“I’m single, ladies.” It drives the crowd into frenzy.

“Alright, alright,” the singer addresses the crowd. Looking around, every figure in the room is watching her every move. She’d be anxious if it weren’t for the pure adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her head pounds with the pressure. “We’re gonna slow it down just a little bit.” She strums out a minor chord on her acoustic, the sound emanating through the room. Even the bartender watches her.

A man wanders into his normal seat at the bar, the bartender setting a glass of whiskey in front of him without him having to ask. It isn’t difficult for him to notice the shift in energy of his favorite late-night stop. Every eye in the place is set on her, now including his own. Intrigued.

“I’d like to take us to the heart of the disassociate.” The crowd screams at the name they recognize. The song was never her favorite, but performing it to an audience that knew it was an entirely different experience than writing it.

“ _ One more block ‘till I reach the end of the line _ ,” she sang along her guitars melody, unable to hide her smile when the crowd hummed along, well off-key, to her own written words.

She takes the song even slower during the breakdown, soaking in the sound of the crowd ‘ooh’-ing her melody beautifully. She lets them take it away, reveling in the moment. She’s happy to be alive for it, happy that her music seems to resonate with someone beside herself.

The audience screams as she holds out her last note, adding a touch of vibrato just for good measure. They love it.

Her guitar is quickly replaced with her rosebud once more, her friends getting back into their places. Her bassist grabs his mic when she gives him the nod.

“That’s it, ladies and gentlemen! We are Alice, Benjamin, Jack, and Jessica, and we are The Anomaly!”

Alice shouts out a ‘one, two, three, four!’ and the group breaks into their final number, the crowd eating it up.

By the time it was over, their ears were ringing and their clothes were soaked through. She touched the hands of those crowding around the front of the stage, though she knew they’d be crowding her once she got off the stage, anyway. Being on stage was a bit different than off-stage. She tried her best to make her fans happy, taking pictures and signing albums and making empty promises to follow them on whatever social media they so choose. It was still an odd process to her. After a show, all she wanted to do was sit and down three bottles of water before a long island iced tea, and enjoy the company of those who were her friends not just for her musical abilities.

Being recognized on the street got boring after a while, she wouldn’t deny. But she would never get tired of her hearing people singing her songs. She really believed that much.  

She lights up a cigarette when she manages to get seated at the bar, immediately ordering her drink. The kids come and go, wanting pictures and idolizing her music to an extent that almost made her uncomfortable. She drinks quickly.

“ _ Fuck _ , that was good, right?” Alice appears besides her, brushing her sweaty bangs to the side of her flushed face.

She lets out a satisfied chuckle, nodding in response. “Yeah, yeah. Love these small gigs, man.”

Alice goes on about giving those girls their manager’s number after the show to call her, and how they absolutely swooned. Jess moves onto a whiskey sour, feeling the alcohol slowly clog her brain.

The air in the bar is hot and humid, but her hands still shake cold. Left over nerves? No, it wasn’t that simple. Her chest went warm with the whiskey, but the rest of her rejected it. She just doesn’t care. Slight alcoholism, but the rest of her is healthy enough to get from Point A to Point B.

“That was quite the show.”

He appears out of nowhere, sliding to the left of her, a sly smirk on his face.

She turns to the voice, immediately stopping in her tracks. She recognizes him, though she isn’t sure how. He holds out a hand for her to shake, which she takes with a cocked head.

“I'm sorry. Do I know you?”

His smile only grows. “Murdoc Niccals. Bassist of Gorillaz.”

Her hand almost stops it's movements as the realization hits her. Of course. How could she forget? He was completely recognizable, and his smile turns shiteating upon the shock that covers her face.

“Oh, my, um…” She trails off, mentally facepalming. “Of course, you're Murdoc Niccals. Wow. Um.”

She stutters off, completely shell shocked.

Alice pipes up, offering her hand. She knew who he was, she wasn't stupid. But she also lacks the anxiety that her friend has.

“Hi! Alice, drummer.”

He takes her hand in a single shake, looking her up and down.

“You really liked the set?” she asked, smile plastered on, though she knows his look of false earnesty. Probably interested in a hookup, but she would happily indulge him.

He nodded. “Not bad, not bad at all. Dedicated fans, it looks like. You usually play gigs this small?”

She’s partially shocked by his interest, her friend still silent. If anything, downing her drink a bit faster.

“No, we usually don't.” She leans over the bar to look at him. “The fans like it, so we're trying to grow our base, ya feel?”

“You want a refill?” The bartender stands above the silent girl, who's about to say a yes before Murdoc pipes in.

“We’ll take two shots. Whiskey.”

She looks up at him like he’s crazy, but he doesn’t notice. She manages to gain her voice.

“Not even gonna ask if you could buy me a drink? Or, I don’t know, my name?”

He revels in the snap of her voice. “Tell me your name, love.”

She turns to face him head-on. “The name’s Jess,  _ love _ . Singer of The Anomaly.”

The shots arrive in the middle of her mockery, and he keeps eye contact while he downs one of the glasses, barely affected. He holds the other in question, which she reluctantly takes.

“To the beginning.”

He clicks his empty glass to hers, which she downs in one go, scowling at the burn.

“Not so easy on ya, hm?” He asks, sliding into the seat beside her, an arm resting predatory on the countertop. Close enough that he could snake it around her if she tried to go. Her head swims, but her nerves stop her short from attempting to move. Their knees bump together. She rejects the startle.

“I’m not usually one for shots,” she admits, feeling oddly young next to the older man. Uncultured, innocent. God knows how many shots he could down before it even got to him.

“Perhaps tequila would be a better option for you, then.” He waves at the bartender, who barely pretends he isn’t watching the two of them, setting tequila shots and limes between the two.

A hand on Jess’ arm startles her out of the staring contest she’s holding, turning her attention towards her drummer.

“You really want to be doing tequila shots?” She whispers, though Murdoc overhears anyway. And, no, she isn’t particularly fond of the idea. But  _ Murdoc fucking Niccals _ is sitting in front of her. Offering her a drink. Offering, perhaps, more.

Alice’s protective hand leaves her arm, though she casts her friend a wary look. “I’m not babysitting you. So try to watch yourself.” She casts the man a bright smile. “Nice meeting you.”

He raises his glass in dismissive goodbye, eyes focused on the woman in front of him. Something captivating in the way she swayed and sang. Something ambient, unique; it gave him a sense of peace, listening to her sing.

She seems shy, he thinks, though a bit of a spitfire. Though, who wouldn't be starstruck at the sight of Murdoc Niccals?

“Come on, then.” He gets right to it, licking the back of his hand for the salt to stick. Jess follows suit, her heart hammering away in her chest. She thanks the many shows she’s spent drinking profusely. Her tolerance may finally come in handy.

“Bottoms up,” she says with a nervous laugh, clinking glasses with the man once more. Salt, shot, lime. She manages to time it just right, feeling none of the burn and relishing in the warmth that spreads through her chest. “You do this often?”

The bartender pours them another.

“Come here? All the time.”

She shakes her head and glances around nervously. Tries to remember he’s just a person. A  _ very famous  _ person. An incredibly talented, unpredictable, hot-headed person.

“No, I mean… Picking up girls in bands at the bar by shots,” she chuckles, “Try saying that five times fast.”

Their gazes meet. “Well, no, not too often, actually.” He pours more salt onto his hand. “Women pick me up far more often than the other way around.”

He lifts his eyebrows with a smirk as one more ‘cheers,’ and they both bang back another shot. It lingers in her throat this time, burning a bit. That’s probably enough for her, head swimming just the tiniest bit, feeling far more outgoing than before. Giggly.

The bar is humid and dimly lit, only a few regulars still sitting around enjoying their drinks. They sit on their phones or they stare at the two out of sight. Jessica’s band still waits around in a corner booth, sharing chips and drinks and laughs; the rowdiest group in the venue.

“Don’t think I’ve quite heard of women picking up  _ the  _ Murdoc Niccals.”

He picks up on it, smirking at the title. “Hard to go out without being recognized. And, well, everybody has a reputation.” He locks eyes with her, making her squirm.

“Tell me, love, where you from?”

She smiles. “Brummie.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “Ozzy fan, eh?” She scoffs at him. “I’m  surprised, I must say. You sound a bit more… posh.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. Just because I don’t sound incompetent-”

“I never said anything about incompetence,” he defends, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Assuming I’m an Ozzy fan?” She laughs, feeling her muscles relax. She can breathe easier with the alcohol in her system. Jess has never been one for idle chit-chat or get-to-know-me small talk. But Murdoc; Outgoing, quit-witted, and never one to back down from a challenge? He’s a whole different genre.

His calm demeanor balances her sharp edges.

“Hey, now,” he points a finger at her, “Ozzy is a fine lad. Kicked my ass once.”

Another laugh. “Not sure that’s something I would go around telling strangers.”

"You kidding? Getting your ass kicked by the godfather of heavy metal? It’s a badge of honor. I wear it proudly.” Both of them laugh.

Jess smiles widely. She’s never felt so easy around a stranger. She almost manages to forget she’s just a hookup. One should be so lucky to end up in Murdoc Niccals’ sheets. He is right, afterall. Everyone has a reputation.

She can barely remember the last time she had a one-night stand. Sleeping with a complete stranger seems even farther away from her grasp. Murdoc’s not entirely a stranger, though. Not when she’s watched his career for years. She can’t say she listens to Gorillaz religiously, but their influences works its way into her music as often as her real idols do. They’re easy to drown in. Changing constantly but still cohesive enough to know them when you hear them.

As far as she knows, Murdoc hasn’t done any solo projects since the band went on hiatus. There were incidents in the tabloids for months about whatever shit he was doing in foreign countries. Kidnappings, destruction of private property, illegal substances, you name it.

But now, he’s here. In a tiny pub in the corner of Colchester. Talking to Jessica, flirting with  _ her _ out of anybody. There could be a hundred places in the world Murdoc could be tonight. And yet he’s here.

He waves for one more round of shots, but she shakes her head. “Think I’m tapped out.”

He chuckles a bit. “And here I thought maybe you’d try and out-drink me.”

She should be intimidated by him, right? He sits so relaxed in front of her, fingers tapping on the counter next to her torso to the beat of whatever song is playing on overhead speakers, staring at her half lidded like there’s something important running through his mind. She stares right back, letting her grin fade into a smirk.

He meets her gaze with equal fervor. “Well, what'd ya say, love? Wanna get out of here?”

He watches as a light blush forms over her cheeks, accenting her freckles nicely. Her chest expands with a deep inhale, and she nods with a hop, heels landing firmly on the floor. “Yeah, okay.”

She meets the eyes of her friend from across the bar, who’s still enjoying her drink. She lifts her thumb to show she’s leaving, and Alice gives her a salute in response, wiggling her eyebrows at her friend as she watches Murdoc put his hand on her back to lead her out.

Ben’s attention is quipped at Alice’s lack thereof. “What the hell you staring at?”

She points her stare at the two of them leaving the venue.

“Whoa,” remarks Jack. “Has she ever hooked up with anyone? Like, ever?”

Alice shoves him lightly, making them laugh. “You know who that is, Jack?” They’re already out of sight, and he just looks at her dumbly. “Murdoc Niccals. You know, Gorillaz?”

“No shit!” he laughs slightly obnoxiously, clapping her shoulder. “Didn’t think Jess had it in ‘er.”

“Give the girl more credit. She can be slutty if she wants,” Ben jokes. Another shove from Alice.

“Don’t be crude,” she scolds.

Jack chuckles. “Don’t be  _ prude _ .”

Alice sighs at the two of them. Sure, her friend should feel free to hookup with whoever whenever she pleases; she’s an adult. And yet something rubs her the wrong way. A famous person doesn’t seem like the greatest candidate. Especially someone they admire in the music industry. And even more so, someone who has such a dirty reputation. She focuses her attention back on her friends playing games with their napkins, deciding it’s unimportant for now. She’ll check back on Jess in a while. 

 

* * *

 

 

The house is dark and silent when they reach it. It all looks… fairly normal. It confuses Jess just barely; the clean dishes on a drying rack and the folded blanket she sees propped upon a leather sofa. It’s all cleaner than she would have pictured, though she’s still punched by the smell of cigarette smoke mixed with some artificial air freshener upon entering.

The smile plastered on Murdoc’s face, whether for intimidation or in anticipation, doesn’t subside as he holds his hand out for her.

She accepts it shyly, heart lightly hammering against her chest. He leads them up stairs after throwing his keys absentmindedly to the kitchen counter, their surroundings dark and full of wooden creaks from the floorboards beneath them.

Murdoc’s room is dimly lit by one lamp on a bedside table, walls painted dark and a broken window in the corner letting in a stream of cool air. It smells musty with a mixture of weed and cigarette smoke, and something else Jess could only identify as cologne. It all looks distinctly  _ Murdoc _ , though she reminds herself she doesn’t actually know him. That idea is only strengthened by her sudden awareness of standing alone together in the room many have visited before her.

Murdoc rids himself of his jacket, and watches her closely as she looks around the room. Making silent judgements as everyone does, pulling her hair around her fingers while she thinks.

He crosses to her, sliding his fingers from her hand up to her shoulder, exuding sin and sex as he brushes her hair away from her neck. She can’t help as her body presses into him just barely, eyes sliding half closed, still watching him closely.

An arm slips around her torso to pull her close to him, and Jess can feel herself blushing furiously. He smiles just a little at her seeming innocence, leaning in just enough.

Their lips finally meet, just once, chaste and sour from alcohol. He pulls away as she stands solid as a statue, his hand coming up to brush the side of her face gently. His thumb pulls her bottom lip down into a pout, a wicked grin passing onto his lips.

“You want it, love?”

She can barely move, but manages to nod with her cheeks on fire. He cocks his head.

“I’ll get you begging for it.”

Her eyes widen but she barely has time to react to his words as his lips meet hers again, demeanor completely altered. Rough and needy, to which she complies easily.

She tries her best to keep up, only following suit to Murdoc’s hot kisses. He was a fairly attractive man, but she always wondered where the incredible sex appeal of him really came from.

Guess she’s gonna find out.

He wastes no time, hands brushing the exposed skin over her waistline, unbuttoning her jeans with a down spiral of kisses from her lips to her jaw and neck. Everywhere he touches leaves goosebumps from the cool air of the room, though she only heat up when she presses further into him.

It's almost too quick, too much for her head to grasp. His fingers are brushing her over her - well, she definitely was not planning on hooking up with someone tonight - worn underwear. His head dips into her neck, biting not-so-lightly, leaving her gasping.

Before she can get her head straight, she's on the bed in half a second; half naked, a head between her thighs. Casualties thrown out the window, she wraps her fingers in his black locks, finally allowing moans to slip at his ministrations. He revels in it, feeling accomplishment at managing to push her out of her cage. His eyes watch her squirm beneath him, raking over her still-covered form. Well, that has to change.

He sits up on his knees, leaving Jess whining and vulnerable, pulling his own shirt over his head. Sitting up, she follows suit, pulling her tank top over and off her shoulders.

It's silent as the two take in the others figure. Jess knows how old he must be, and it's not like he doesn't show it. But his arms were still strong, body still toned, jaw angular and prominent. And god be damned if he didn't look like the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

Jess, on the other hand, was still relatively young. Curvy, though a bit underweight. Freckled shoulders where her wavy hair meets her skin, sticking to her from sweat.

His eyes are drawn to a scar on her collarbone; a long diagonal stripe protruding. His hand reaches out to touch it, skimming the surface as the singer tries not to flinch.

Murdoc’s hand slips from her collar to her chest, admiring the way her skin looks in the dark light. Suddenly, her bra drops from her shoulders, and his attention is diverted.

Their eyes meet, a smirk immediately finding refuge on Murdoc’s face. She can't help the smile she gives back to him, a thrill running through her.

His hands attach to undo his belt buckle as he falls back into her to kiss her again. Jess’ body is on fire as she decides to throw a bit more caution to the wind, wrapping her fingers in his belt loops between open legs, grinding into him. It elicits a groan from the man above her, who manages to slip his pants down past his hips with a sigh, pressing himself into her with a bit more gusto.

Jess lets some profanity slip her lips before they’re once again pressed into Murdoc’s, arms looping around his shoulders and nails pressing into his skin.

He untangles himself from her for only a moment, reaching into his bedside table for a condom, ripping it open with his teeth. Jess chuckles at the display, Murdoc raising his eyebrows at her

“Where’d you learn that trick, huh? High school?”

He holds narrow eye contact with her while he puts it on himself. “Most women find that trick very appealing, I’ll have you know.”

She laughs again as he towers over her, coming to nibble at her neck.

“’S a little too tacky. Though, I suppose I should figure you have low standards.”

His teeth scrape along her skin a bit harder at that, her teasing somehow only turning him on more.

“Guess that makes sense considering you’re in my bed, hm?” He mumbles against her skin, and she feigns offense with a gasp.

“Ooh, playing dirty.” She feels almost intoxicated from the electricity between, and she pushes up against him in desperation, her stomach flipping a bit at their compromising position. It’s been a long time since she’s had a one-night stand, definitely. Feels even longer since she’s been so hooked on another persons moves, the aftertaste they leave on her lips, the way her fingers mold to their skin.

He resurfaces with a smirk. “Come on, you gonna beg for me or what?”

“Fuck off, old man.”

Murdoc lets out a hearty laugh at that, leaning down to bite at her lower lip.

“Might wanna watch what you say around me, love.”

Without another word, he pushes in, a groan pulling from each of their throats. It’s hot, his palms grasping to push her thighs apart, hooking a knee over his own shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, but it feels so heavenly divine, her own heavy breaths painting his lips.

A rhythm establishes itself, every down turn garnished with a wet kiss. Jess clings to him, fingering pushing into his back to bring him closer to her, the both of them moving in sync with sighs and curses. It doesn't take long for Murdoc to speed up, deeper and harder and somehow more delicious with every meeting of their hips.

It’s hard for Murdoc to be entranced by a person, to find anything new and exciting in the ritual that sex has become, but his head is swimming just the slightest bit. It’s not much, but something about the naked woman beneath him, eyes screwed shut in pleasure and concentration. Something about how she completely contrasts the person he met thirty minutes ago. He can see the challenge to break her out of her shell and he takes it.

Both sets of hands wander the other’s body, Jess only trying to memorize this moment for the books. An experience of a lifetime, something many women only dream of doing. And yet, here she is, reveling in the snap he brings to her hips, the roll of his tongue along her neck, the fire coiling inside of her. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and she wonders why the hell she doesn’t hook up with people more often.

Murdoc’s hip increase their pace just a fraction more as sweat accumulates on his brow, watching the body beneath him in concentration and awe, bringing his hand between them in hopes of getting her there quicker.

“Fuck,” she mumbles, hand grasping behind his neck to kiss him harshly, and he returns the favor like it’s all he was ever meant to do. The heat is crushing and breathtaking, and Murdoc can’t help the profanities slipping his lips.

They’re all clashing teeth and desperate hands when he becomes too erratic to control, Jess winding up so tight only to finally let go with a cry and an arch of her spine. Murdoc follows just seconds behind, sinking his teeth into her neck as he comes with a force he isn’t used to, groaning loudly into the skin of his lover, until his hips make their stutter to a stop.

Deep pants fill their bubble of space as the tension eases, replaced with the calm euphoria the afterglow brings. They carefully untangle themselves from each other.

Murdoc flips himself over onto his back, still taking in deep breaths, a hand coming up to wipe his brow of sweat. Jess stares at the ceiling, letting herself calm down, though the post-sex nerves start creeping their way in. She tries to push them away and enjoy the moment.

Murdoc mumbles some profanity with a deep sigh. Like, yeah, that was fucking good.

He’s reaching for his pack of cigarettes as Jess sits up, hair sticking to her sweat-sheen skin. She stumbles off to the adjacent bathroom to wash up as Murdoc lights up, sleep threatening them both.

When Jess is standing back over the bed, she loses the ability to care about her compromising nudity.

“So, tell me. It’s been a while since I’ve done this kinda thing. Do I stay the night or leave?” she questions. He glances up at her, eyes dancing across her naked form. And then, his words fight against his better judgement in hopes of a round two by morning. With another glance in her direction, he picks up the button up he was previously wearing and throws it in her direction.

“Stay the night.”

She responds with a simple “Mm,” pulling the fabric over her shoulders , relishing in it's oversized comfort. The bed molds to her weight as she slips back into the silk sheets, watching Murdoc closely as he  sucks on his cigarette. A cloud of smoke surrounds them with nowhere to disperse to, and she feels calm with the scent filling her senses.

He silently offers his cigarette to her which she accepts with a smile. Two drags and her head is swimming with a new exhaustion.

Murdoc watches her, the calmest he’s seen her this far. She’s full of excitement on stage, full of nerves in the arms of a stranger, full of bull and spark and wit and nonsense.

It’s been a little while since Murdoc’s found a worthy opponent. He smirks as he takes his cigarette back for himself. Wedging it between his teeth, he watches her turn her back to him, clad in his own shirt, getting comfortable to sleep without another word. He thanks Satan she doesn’t try to wrap herself around him, letting him take his own space without post-shag obligations.

Murdoc finally tears his eyes from her, putting out his cigarette on his bedside table and flipping a switch to darken the room. He leans back, a hand behind his head, and sleep comes easy.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Anomaly --
> 
> Jessica Bowman, lead vocals/guitar, 34 --- Felicity Jones  
> Alice Lee, drummer, 35 --- Agyness Deyn  
> Jack Hawkins, guitar, 32 --- Jon Kortajarena  
> Benjamin Shaw, bass, 29 --- Tinie Tempah
> 
> (I like to have visuals for my OC's, so here's their celebrity doppelganger's)


End file.
